


by way of pain

by Dreamdarling84



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, F/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 17:11:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16706572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamdarling84/pseuds/Dreamdarling84
Summary: After Reichenbach...Sherlock hides away at Molly's for the night, his last night in London.  Sherlock was certain his last night would be a quiet one but it turns out to be one he won't soon forget.





	by way of pain

**Author's Note:**

> Like usual I hesitate to post this piece because I really just wrote it for fun and I'm never happy with anything I write.

* * *

      A bath and then bed.  Soaking and forgetting every horrible thing that had transpired within the last 12 hrs was the only thing Molly Hooper could manage. She’d left Sherlock alone in the living room, wrapped up in his coat and scarf, withdrawn and planning who knows what in his head. Like usual he didn’t want anything just to be left alone so she scurried off to her room, to her soaking and forgetting.  Molly was glad he asked to stay over at her place but at this point she had no idea what his plans were from one hour to the next. She closed her eyes and sunk down into the hot, lavender scented bath and wiped her mind of any and all thoughts of Sherlock Holmes.

     Molly quickly lost any sense of time after she floated off into her peaceful contemplation.  The quiet and stillness instantly soothed her worried mind, sore feet and achy shoulders.  She soaked and recovered until the water began to lose its warmth and turn cold.  She took her time drying off, optimistic that she would be able to fall asleep and get some much needed rest. _I should probably check on Sherlock_ she thought as she rubbed lotion on her legs.   She hadn't heard him make a sound. _He's probably asleep or gone_ , she thought as she began to dress.  Out of nowhere she heard a loud laugh that made her jump.  She looked around startled, thinking someone was in her room but when she heard the laugh again it was clearly coming from the living room.   _How could he be laughing_ , she thought as she quickly put on her robe and peaked out at him through a small crack in her bedroom door. He was hunched over reading a book which she quickly deduced was her journal.  She had completely forgotten she’d left it lying open on the coffee table. She had been neglecting her journal, it had been months since she had written anything. Last night sleep seemed impossible, her mind manic and worry ridden. Molly spent most of the night sitting by an open window a cigarette on her lips, blowing rings of smoke at the moon  The rest of the night she spent writing, expelling all the thoughts racing in her head.

     Normally she would storm out humiliated and tear it from his hands but tonight she was more interested in watching his varied reactions as he read through page after page.  His thick brow, those crystal blue eyes, and razor sharp cheekbones were so pleasing to observe, so animated and lively. Molly was actually glad he was reading her inner most thoughts, her secrets and kinks. He did fake his own death today and tomorrow he would be all alone, in hiding for who knows how long. So what did it matter if he was reading her silly journal. He sat up and moved to the edge of his seat, turning through page after page. He was clearly starting to squirm a bit and she was trying to guess what passage caused it. At one point he rolled his eyes and shook his head and she muttered a little to loudly, “That bastard.”  He immediately looked up searching for the source and she quietly pushed the door open,“You really shouldn’t read someone’s private journal, Sherlock”

     “I honestly wish I could've seen you punch Anderson in the face.” he said, holding up the journal. Not caring one bit that she had caught him red handed.

     “Anderson was messing up my autopsy, barking orders at me. Then he made the mistake of saying I was nothing more then your fucken dog, less than that and I didn't even think I just punched him right in the nose. They wrote me up but it was worth it.”

     “How long were you watching me read your journal?” he asked, tossing the journal onto the coffee table.“

     "Just a couple minutes.”

     “I meant to just read a page or two but it turned out to be quite the page turner.“

     “Oddly enough I am flattered my journal captivated you for that long.”

    “Seems you did a fairly good job only allowing me to see what you wanted me to see.”

    “Not at all.  I just had a knack for being a clumsy awkward mess around you.  It's hard being yourself around someone who will call you out on anything and everything no matter how humiliating.” she shrugged as she sat down on the sofa across from him.

    “You do have a way with words, and the scope of your imagination is impressive.  That whole scene with me in the restraints and you with the riding crop was interesting but ridiculous. What’s the point of writing out such silly fantasies?”

    She shrugged, “It’s fun plus it helps me get it out my system.  I’m shocked you’re passing up a chance to show off and tear me apart with some brutal deduction. There’s a lot to dissect in that journal.”

    “Do you honestly believe I would cut you down after everything we’ve been through today. I'm sorry I shouldn't have looked through your journal. My curiosity got the better of me it always does. I meant it when I said you matter to me.”

    “I believed you I just thought you meant I matter as far as helping you save the day, as you know part of team Sherlock. Also I’ve never known you to pass up a chance to show off no matter how bad the timing”

    “That’s not what I want.  That’s not what I meant.”

     “Then please explain in detail how you _really_ feel?” She taunted him knowing he would retreat.

     “What about this Adam that you miraculously hid from everyone? ” he redirected.

     “What about him? It’s been on and off.  Right now it’s off.”

      “How exactly did that work?  What every week you had a standing appt with him?”

       “It wasn’t quite that transactional. We met through a friend and it just sort of happened. We complimented each other...I liked taking power and he enjoyed forfeiting it.  It was very casual at first and then it got serious ”

         “Why ropes and paddles and pain?”

         “You read my journal so I'm sure you already know the answer to your question.”

          “Yes but right now I want to hear from you.”

           She bit her lip while she thought over her answer, “I guess...the push and pull, using discipline and pain to take someone beyond what they ever thought sex or pleasure could be, setting them free from all the norms and expectations...it's very addictive.  The high you get from it is unlike anything else.” 

     He looked away out the window and crossed his legs, not sure how to respond, but unable to keep from fidgeting, “You have your answer and now it looks like you regret asking.” She said, not wanting to let him off the hook.

     “It’s quite brutal how you strung him along but then again he sounds like an oblivious idiot all the signs were there. You'd think he would've got the hint.”

     “Don’t pass judgements and shit all over what we had just because you're jealous.”

     He scoffed, “I’m not jealous.  I’m concerned.”

     Molly laughed out loud, “Oh give me a break.  You’re not concerned.”

     He sat up, “You devastated a man who clearly loved you despite everything. Turned him away for what? It’s self destructive. You should have married him. Gone far away from all this.”

     “I tried, we both tried but I just couldn't- I just couldn't love him the way he deserved.  He knew...he always knew.” Her voice faded and she looked away.

    "Knew what?”

     She was instantly paralyzed by his question.  It had always gone unspoken. She never wrote out how she felt about him in her journal, or said it out loud to herself. She didn’t dare.  Even that final fight with Adam neither one said it but it was so clearly understood that Molly had already given her heart and soul away to a man who would probably never claim it, never reciprocate.  Sherlock sat across from her willfully playing dumb, deep down knowing the answer. Wanting her to admit that eventually she'd have to settle. _Why not Adam_ , he's thinking. He knew exactly why she didn’t settle for Adam.  Why in the end she’d rather just be on her own. She could immediately feel a rush of excitement course through her, her heart ready to confess and release all it was forced to repress. Her mind quickly set the alarms off and fought against her impulsive heart. There was no need to confess anything. He would just spook and runaway and then she’d have nothing. 

     “He knew I loved…my job too much to leave London.  I would've been miserable. Besides he’s gone, it’s over and there’s nothing to be done except move on.  So what happens tomorrow? ”she asked

    “I disappear.”

    “And me?”

    “You get to grieve. Go on living your life. Mycroft will make sure you are left alone.”

     “Are you sure you want to spend your last night in London at my flat?”

     “Honestly I’m in no condition to be alone.”

     He let out a heavy sigh, then sat back and covered his face with his hands, “My mind is racing, it wants to be occupied but I would very much like a reprieve. There was only _one thing_ that could rid me of the feeling but of course I can’t go back down that road.” he sighed as he leaned forward and picked up her journal again, gently flipping through the pages over and over.

    “How about a drink, I have cigarettes too.”

    “No I want something better.”

    “What do you mean?” she asked

    “I want you. I want what’s in this journal.” 

    “What...you want me to punch you in the face?

    “Dammit Molly, no. You know what I mean.”

    "Are you trying to be funny? Is my journal a fucken joke?”

     “No I'm dead serious.”

     “Why? Why now? I don’t need some meaningless pity fuck as some shitty way for you to show your gratitude. I don’t need anything from you.” she spat at him.

      He threw the journal aside and held out is hand, “Come here.”

     “Go fuck yourself, Sherlock.  I’m going to bed.” she snarled at him before storming off.

    “Molly come here now!” he yelled, the bass of his voice ringing in her ear.

     She stopped but didn’t turn to look at him, “Come here, Molly. _Please_. I'm being ridiculously forward. It's idiotic and impulsive and I'm about to lose my nerve.” he declared, nearly shouting.

     Molly finally turned, his hand still outstretched, “Sherlock Holmes lose his nerve? I don't believe it” she scoffed

     “It’s not a joke, I don’t have any ulterior motives.  Please come over here.”

    “If you want something from me you can come over here and ask for it. I don’t take orders from you anymore.”  she said

     Sherlock slouched  back in the armchair as he steepled his hands in front of his mouth, his brow slightly crumpled.  

    “Is that it? Have you lost your nerve?” she mocked him.

     He replied with a subtle cock of an eyebrow as he sat up and moved to the edge of his seat. Molly kept her feet firmly planted, her chest held high, her eyes comfortably fixated on his.  She settled into the tension, unafraid to lean into it, enjoying it. No more downplaying, no more shrinking in his presence. The Molly he saw now was the real one, no longer intimidated by him. After a minute he stood, while his hands worked to loosen and remove his scarf. He threw the scarf on the sofa in front of him, then moved on to his coat, next his blazer. She could see his shoulders relax and lower, see him taking longer, deeper breaths as he removed each layer. Each step he took was measured, heavy with intent. Challenging him from afar was easy, but now he was looking at her like she was his answer, his long awaited relief. Her chest tighten, her stomach felt like it was in a free fall. Molly did her best not to flinch, he was waiting for the flinch. The closer he got the harder it was to hide her anxious anticipation.

     "Don't lose your nerve now that you got what you wanted...” he sighed.

     “What exactly do _you_ want, Sherlock.” she snapped back, steeling herself again. There was no space left between them, she could feel his breath hitting her collar bone, she could clearly see every line on his face, a faint scar on his forehead near his hairline.  

     “I want to forget.” he whispered. She felt his fingers gently tug at the belt of her robe and she immediately stiffened remembering she hadn’t finished dressing before she started spying on him. The only thing she was wearing under her robe was a black pair of underwear.  His intention wasn’t to completely disrobe her, just to get a glimpse. His eyes wandered down while one hand slid under her robe, his fingertips drifting faintly across her hips around to the small of her back. He tilted his head and brought his lips to her neck, barely applying pressure only grazing against her skin.  He dipped further down and kissed the tender spot between her breasts.

     She shook her head, “Do you want to close your eyes and pretend I’m _the woman_ for a night before you’re exiled from all the things you care about?  Is that what this is about?”

     He brought his eyes up to hers, “She was very beautiful and I admired her cunning but eventually she would have exploited any intimacy I granted her. That alone spoiled any attraction I had for her. But _you._..you're one of the only people who truly knows me, and maybe I am a bit jealous.”

     Molly carded her fingers through the dark curls of his hair, traced the line of his nose, the curve of his lips with her fingertips, still trying to decide if she should turn him away. This small taste of intimacy made her heart swell and strain against the confines of her chest but at the same time she didn’t trust it. In one breath glorious and the next gut wrenching.

     “Molly…”He muttered then pressed his lips to hers. “I’m dead now. I don’t have to follow the rules. There’s no risk of weakness.  Now I want relief, I want to indulge in all the things I couldn’t have when I was alive.  All the things I denied myself.” he paused and brushed his lips against the line of her jaw, “I’ve never and if I’m going to- if I’m going to-- I don’t have to be anything I’m not with you...do you understand?” He pressed his lips to hers.

     Molly was rendered helpless by his unexpected confession. The whole scene felt surreal to the point that she almost didn’t trust her senses.  A paranoia crept in and infected her with doubt, with a suspicion that this was all just a very vivid dream. Maybe she was still soaking and forgetting in her tub. She took a small step back, alarmed and unsure.  His hands immediately pulled her back“Molly?” he whispered against her lips. The sound of his voice instantly grounded her. The paranoia and doubt released it’s hold on her mind.  She pressed her lips to his to show him she was fine, “Are you sure Sherlock?” she asked

     “Yes...“

     “I have rules.  If you can’t follow my rules then you can sleep out here all alone on the sofa.”

     “Tell me the rules.” he replied, his hand running up up her back to her shoulder blades.

     “In my bedroom I will decide when you deserve pleasure and when you need to be disciplined.  You will only address me as Mistress unless I allow you otherwise. If any of it is too much or you don’t feel uncomfortable then just call out the safe word which is _Hydrogen. Do_  you understand and accept my terms? _”_

      He only nodded.

     “Answer properly.” she demanded.   

     He took a deep breath,“Yes, Mistress.  I understand.”

    “Very good.” She sighed as she led him into her bedroom.  

     She sat him down on the bed and began undressing him. His hands wandered around under her robe, skimming past her hips to the back of her thighs.  He stood when she reached for his belt buckle and smashed his mouth to hers while he helped peel off the rest of his clothes.

     She couldn’t stop herself from bringing her lips to his neck, then his shoulders and chest.  It made her ache, made her itch and pulse with need. “It's taking all I have not to just let you fuck me” she said against his lips, her hands groping his backside before moving on to his cock, “You were already getting hard out in the living room weren't you. Is that why you kept fidgeting, Sherlock?”

     “Yes, Mistress” He breathed out

     She took his hand in hers and guided it past her underwear between her legs, “I want you to feel what you do to me.” she sighed.  His fingers began to gently rub her while she kissed him. After a moment or two she pulled his hand away, “Suck on your fingers…” she instructed.  She watched as he sucked and licked his fingers, “Do I taste good, Sherlock?” 

     “Yes, Mistress.”

      She stepped away from him and left him standing by the bed, “You were very rude to me earlier.  Yelling at me to come over to you in the living room, invading my privacy. Very disrespectful. Do you think you were rude and disrespectful, Sherlock?” she asked as she turned out the lights and lit the candles on her vanity.

     “Yes, Mistress.”

     “I think I need to correct this behavior.  Do you agree?” she opened one of the drawers of her vanity and pulled out her favorite black paddle.

    “Yes, Mistress.”

     She held up the black paddle, “I think a spanking with the paddle will do. Get on top of the bed on your hands and knees.”

     “Are you serious?  You're going to start with the paddle straight away?" There was a flash of regret in his eyes, his pride and ego unable to surrender, bucking against the thought of Molly spanking the great Sherlock.

     He had always considered vulnerability a weakness, the easiest way to lose the game. Reading a silly fantasy in a journal was one thing but faced with actually having to surrender and submit to her was another thing entirely.  He stood his ground as she stepped up to him and pushed him back on to the bed.  Molly crawled onto his lap, one hand pulling hard at his hair making sure his eyes stayed fixed to hers the other still holding the paddle.  

     “I understand how difficult it must be handing yourself over to someone so completely. Especially when you've always been the one with the power, the one telling everyone what to do so I'll give you a second chance. I want an apology or this is over and you can get the fuck out”

     Sherlock's cool glare gave way to amazement and a hint of fervor. She could feel him twitch and squirm, hard and eager. She held her breath, her eyes boring into his, unwavering. After a few tense seconds he finally conceded, “Please forgive me Mistress. I shouldn't have doubted you.”

     She sighed with relief and pressed her lips to his ear, "There will be no more second chances...now do as your told." She bit at his earlobe before removing herself from his lap. While she moved off to the side he got on his hands and knees at the center of the bed.  Once he was settled, she took a moment to take in the magnificent sight of Sherlock in such a lovely submissive position, so exposed and compliant.

     “Arch your back and keep your head lifted” she said as she ran her hands down his shoulder blades to the small of his back then his backside, gently massaging as she went. She wanted him to settle, take pleasure in the tenderness of her hands before the wallop of the paddle and it's sting.  

     “15 strokes. Count them out. If you miss a count we start over.”

     She pulled her arm back, took a deep breath to ground herself,  then she brought the paddle down and struck the thickest part of his backside. The blow she delivered was not full force, she held back and gave him a chance to acclimate.   

     “One.” He groaned, unprepared for the sting.

     The paddle hit again, there was a long pause. “Two.” he moaned, still adjusting, still only feeling a sting and embarrassment.  

     She struck him a third time, this time with a little more force. The sound of the paddle hitting his skin was crisp, yet rich enough to resonate throughout the whole room.  With each hit his skin became more and more blushed, a bright, lovely pink. By the 7th stroke he was leaning into each blow, by the 15th blow he was somewhere else completely, where she didn't know but his eyes were glazed over with what seemed like euphoria.

     Molly was quite pleased. She quickly grabbed a balm from her vanity and massaged it gently into his very raw, red skin and cooed softly, “Well done, Sherlock. Very good.” She leaned down and kissed his back, his shoulders, massaged his legs. Then she turned him over.  She took his cock in her hand, still slick with the balm she massaged onto his backside. She stroked him with just enough pressure to allow him a reprieve, a small prize for taking the paddle so well. He shut his eyes overwhelmed, the pain magnifying the small taste of pleasure.

     Once he had recovered, she set the balm and paddle aside on the nightstand and grabbed her rope. She straddled him and he looked up at her, half his mouth tilted up into a smirk. She grabbed his hands and brought his wrist together and began tying them together in the intricate Kinbaku style she preferred.  She would've loved to tie him up in a more vulnerable position but she thought it better not to completely overwhelm him.  His eyes stayed fixated on her hands, fascinated, “May I ask a question?”

     “Go ahead.”

     “Who taught you how to do this?”

     “Adam… I was just using restraints and he brought the rope and taught me how to use it properly.”

     Once his wrists were tied together she looped the rope around the headboard.

     “Tied up and helpless, what a lovely sight.  Do you like being tied up, Sherlock? Is it all you hoped it would be?”

     He cocked an eyebrow, bit back whatever caustic remark had popped in his head and simply replied, “Yes, Mistress.”

    She made her way down his body, and took his cock in her hand again. He took measured breaths with each stroke of her hand.  She made it a point to keep her eyes on his face. She had to preserve the memory, every single second had to be crystal clear. The instant her tongue began to lick the underside of his cock his whole face contorted in such a beautiful way, like he was being electrified. His hands pulled against the ropes when her lips finally paid special attention to the sensitive head of his cock.  His hips kept bucking up wanting more contact. Eventually she appeased him and took him as far back as she could without gagging. Sherlock shut his eyes tight and groaned like he was in pain.  Her lips and tongue sucked, harder and faster until finally he muttered somewhat incoherently, “Fuck, I'm going to come.” She immediately stopped everything, all sensation and made sure he didn’t come.  His eyes shot open, “Molly.” he gasped.

     She pinched one of his nipples and he hissed, “That is not how you address me in this room.” she sighed.

     “Mistress, please.”

     “You’ll come when you've earned it.” she said.  She could see it, the exasperation rolling over him, her denial testing his patience.  After a very long moment she began stroking his cock again, then took him in her mouth again.  She enjoyed watching him squirm right back to that same peak, pulling harder against the rope. She relished the tension, teasing him and then hitting full throttle.  When she denied him release this time he roared out a “Fuck!” And then began to beg, “Please, Mistress. Please untie me, untie me now.” he said through gritted teeth, while yanking against the rope.

     She leaned forward and kissed his forehead  while she began to loosen the ropes binding his hands and wrists, “Sherlock you have done so well. Take me how you want.” she said against his lips, tossing the rope on the floor.

     The moment his hands were free he attacked her, smashing his mouth to hers while he swung her around onto her back. His hands skimmed down her body, immediately aiming for her underwear and yanking them away.  His burst of energy died away when he finally had her laid out, naked. His eyes searching hers, unsure and overwhelmed. The emotional component had caught him off guard, it was foreign and scary. She brushed the hair back from his eyes and whispered, “It’s okay.”  She pulled him down and wrapped her legs around his hips. He immediately melted down into her, drawing her nipple into his mouth. He pressed his hips forward and easily slid inside her, filling her. She arched up into him, her hands at his waist. It was slow and steady at first while they found the right cadence. She could tell he was in his head a bit, calculating, deducing how to fuck her properly.  He kept adjusting the angle of his hips, clumsily searching. “Sherlock..” she whispered, pulling him out of his head, bringing his eyes to meet hers. He pressed his forehead to hers and she guided him, “Your angling too far down and back, more up…..more...right there...stay there.” she whimpered. Once they were both on the same wavelength, he began pounding into her at a brutal pace. He was precise and unrelenting.  It didn’t take long. When she felt him come inside her, she was instantly lost. She clawed at his arms and back, while her thighs clenched around his hips, trying to control the onslaught of gratification. Eventually she simply let go, blissfully adrift. Both of them surrendered, willingly swept away into a sweet, weightless stupor.

     It took her awhile to get her bearings again. He was still between her legs, his face buried in the crook of her neck. Feeling his skin against hers, his weight on top of her sent a rich, warm comfort coursing through her veins, relaxing every muscle. Sherlock appeared to be in the same state, his body limp, the rise and fall of his breath like gentle waves. Her fingers nestled into his dark curls, it was the only place they were happy, swimming and gliding through his hair.  The thought of moving was incomprehensible to either one of them. Nothing could be allowed to disturb the happy peace they found. It must be protected at all costs. They laid there still and satisfied for who knows how long.

     “I think I'll take that drink and the cigarette, now” he finally said after a long while

     She untangled herself and sat up on the side of the bed. Molly had to take a minute to acclimate herself and bring everything back into focus.  Her legs still felt shaky, the whole room was still tilted. Once she was ready she got up slowly.  She slipped her robe back on as she made her way to the kitchen. Molly grabbed her pack of cigarettes and lighter from the drawer by the stove then the bottle of vodka from the freezer and glass from the cupboard.  As she gathered everything up in her arms she paused for a moment then stepped out into the living room.

 _The coat_ , she thought with a smile. _Sherlock’s coat_ she thought again realizing that this was her chance, her only chance.  She looked around and found it thrown on the sofa, under his blazer and scarf. She set down the booze and cigarettes before eagerly removing her robe. Molly picked up his coat and put it on slowly, enjoying the feeling of the cool silk lining touching her bare skin for the first time. Molly popped the collar before pulling the coat tightly around her and breathing in his scent. Once she was ready she gathered up the vodka and cigarettes and returned to the bedroom. Molly found him sitting in the armchair by the window, barefoot, dressed in nothing but his pants.

     “Looks good on you.”

     “I’ve always wanted to wear this damn coat.  This is my last chance.”

     She opened the window behind the armchair and sat on the window sill.  She handed him a cigarette, and placed one on her lips while she reached for her lighter.  Molly lit his cigarette while he poured himself a drink. Sherlock lit her cigarette, his glass of vodka in one hand the lighter in another.  Together they blew rings of smoke out into the cold night air.

     “Do you have any requests for your funeral?”

    “No I think Mycroft has already made all the arrangements.  I didn’t want anything to do with it.”

     “I’m tempted to make a scene. You know maybe I’ll get up to say a few words and just roast you, tear you to shreds.  Or play a really silly song and say it was your favorite...I’m thinking Spice Girls or something Disco.”

     “Mycroft would have a fit.” he laughed as he threw back the glass of vodka.

    “Do you think you’ll ever come back?”

     He shrugged as he put out his cigarette.

    “I’m guessing you’ll prefer being out there on your own running wild.”

     “It don’t know how long I’ll be gone but it won’t be forever.  To be honest it’s the last thing on my mind. I’m completely distracted by something else.” he said as he stood up and turned towards her.

     “What?”  she asked as he walked over to her

     “You in my coat.” She turned towards him, opening up the coat, fully exposing herself while she snuffed out her cigarette.  She felt his hands on her upper thighs, drawing her into his space

     “What exactly do want, Sherlock.”

     He brought his lips to her ear, his cheek pressed against hers and whispered, “I believe I still have many more misdeeds to atone for, Mistress.  I want to atone for them while you wear by coat.” he replied before biting and kissing her tender earlobe.

     She laughed to herself as he slowly backed away, grinning as he began to undress again.

     “I think I can make that happen.” she replied as she hopped off the window sill and joined him on the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

    When she woke up the next morning she was alone. Sherlock was gone.  She was not surprised or sad. He was never going to stay, he was never hers to keep.  She only hoped that he would stay safe, that he would find a way back someday. John had already called her 3 times, she had 5 unchecked voicemails from God knows who.  She took a long shower and tried not to think about the dreadful chaos Sherlock left behind that she would have to face. After her shower she went looking for her journal, wanting to add one last passage but it was gone.  In its place a handwritten note.

 _Dearest Molly-  I’m keeping the journal.  It will keep the loneliness at bay while I’m out here in the wild without you._ _Love, S.H._


End file.
